A True Explanation As To Why The Living Lose
by The newbie phan
Summary: Christine has passed on, joining her father. But not before meeting her angel's waiting soul on the way. They allowed their wings to spread together and fly home at long last. The living in her late life now reflect on their actions, and took down their guard for realization and regret to burn them for playing with matches


A/N: I have not been on here in almost a year. That is because I have not had the mental capacity or inspiration to do anything more than nothing. I was scared if I just tried to throw something out of my brain with out really getting into it, it would be really bad, and I'd rather be really good and really late, than early and give you gives brain-barf. I am very sorry for being absent for such a prolonged amount of time, and I'm gonna be honest, I wouldn't expect any true work on here until summer break starts here. I'm not gonna get your hopes up, so... Here you have my one-shot/poetry piece I made in the middle of english class. Review? Maybe? Please/thank you, I'm grateful for whatever you give me, my friends!

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A True Explanation As To Why The Living Lose

Even in death

She looks like someone had planted doubt in her mind

Tried to weed out the dandelions from her field of dreams

Tore apart her fantasies

Hanging on chains and hooks

Broken and bleeding

Put on a line to gag on their own tongues

As their mouths turn silver from the iron...

Even in death

She looks like she had another favor owed to someone...

Her sister, her friend

Herself...

Even in death

She looks like she should release one last breath

Held inside like helium in a balloon

One last wish

To blow away on spring's snowflakes...

Even concealed in a wooden caress

She dreams on

Her mind still wanders

Not clearing away the webs spun by the delirious Arachne

But knitting her own

Catching her own prey

Her own spark

Becoming one with the reapers

In her negative glow of paused youth.

Even as one with the earth

She grows

Her dreams carry on

A legacy the living could never catch onto

In the stench of our own false sanity and certainty

Though we are bloodhounds...

Her coffin holds her

As her mother held her in the beginning

As her young lover held her not days before

And even though her casing stole the roles of her beloved living

She still feels their touch.

Even years into the future

As her flesh disintegrates without a trace

As her bones turn brittle

Sweet like candy canes

Their stripes wearing off

Not a touch to help

Even as her bones turn dull as the eroded sky so far above her

Even as her hair falls from her crest as leaves do trees

Even as her eyes fade and disappear

Even as her head empties as time robs her of her thoughts

Even as her soft palms taste what it's like not to have the flavor of another hand

Even as her chest collapses, a gold mine abandoned for lack of diamonds

Even as her perfection in life holds hands with her flaws and they whither away together

Even as her beloved living join her

Even as death carries her from her sorrows still

Even as he brushes his rain-cloud fingers across her face

Even as he kisses her forehead to repeal the dusty film of fear from her crown

Even as she accepts his touch

She is not dead because the opportunity was not seized

Death took the chance that the living couldn't grasp

Death took the hand that had offered its own heart

Death did not drag her by the wrist as we portray he does

Death took the heart held in that hand, not to take it from her

But to set it free as we never could allow her do herself...

Death put her heart in his own excavated chest so she could last forever with him

For Death saw that as the only way fit to cherish her

For Death saw that as the only thing the living couldn't do

For Death saw that as the only thing she needed

For Death saw that as one thing the living wouldn't allow she do herself

For Death saw that as the only way to give her a true home

Only one thing we wouldn't permit she do herself...

Even as Death carries her as a lover does his bride

Even as her hand lay on his chest for the comfort we could never give her

She is not dead, simply because she refuses us her existence

She is dead, simply because we refused her, her own...


End file.
